


Mine

by alisvolatpropiis



Series: That's Why He Lets Him In [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst and Fluff and Smut, ChestHair!Derek, Comeplay, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Derek With Cats, Happy Ending, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Love, Morning After, Morning Sex, POV Stiles, Rimming, Spooning, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Pain-Relief Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisvolatpropiis/pseuds/alisvolatpropiis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn’t sure what he’s more surprised by when he wakes in the morning: that he slept better than he has in ages with Derek in his bed, or that Derek stayed the night at all. The relief he feels when he sees him there, sleeping comfortably, almost serenely, is palpable. They’re facing each other, close but not touching, and Stiles takes advantage of Derek’s slumber to watch him openly, taking in each exquisite line and curve of his chiseled face, the way his mouth is soft but still slightly downturned, long eyelashes lying delicately across his smooth skin. He’s astonishing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> The conclusion to [That's Why He Lets Him In](http://archiveofourown.org/series/126189). Of course it's a happy ending! With some fluff and a cat, because I can't not make these two love each other.

Stiles isn’t sure what he’s more surprised by when he wakes in the morning: that he slept better than he has in ages with Derek in his bed, or that Derek stayed the night at all. The relief he feels when he sees him there, sleeping comfortably, almost serenely, is palpable. They’re facing each other, close but not touching, and Stiles takes advantage of Derek’s slumber to watch him openly, taking in each exquisite line and curve of his chiseled face, the way his mouth is soft but still slightly downturned, long eyelashes lying delicately across his smooth skin. He’s astonishing.

Derek’s eyes open slowly, catching Stiles watching him sleep. He thinks he should be embarrassed, and maybe he is, but he can’t bring himself to care all that much, because Derek is looking at him with sleep-heavy eyes that take his breath away. His face is utterly free of its usual guardedness, his brow completely unfurrowed, no trace of that angry glare. Hair a mess, falling over his forehead, eyes a stormy green in the dim gray light. His mouth is slightly open, blunt edges of his adorably uneven teeth barely showing between his full lips. Even with the beard he looks young, maybe even fragile. He looks nothing like the surly predator who has devoured and dominated him time and time again, eagerly and with pleasure.

Stiles isn’t prepared for this, didn’t think waking up next to Derek would be this intense…this exciting, this perfect. He’s awash in a mix of feelings, but through the chaos that’s churning in him, he knows resolutely that whatever this feeling is, he wants more of it. He distantly reminds himself that Derek’s a werewolf and he’s a hunter and that there’s so much bad blood between them, but that matters less and less the longer he lets himself study Derek’s morning face.

“You’re still here,” he says finally, trying sound pleased but not overly excited, not quite sure where he stands with Derek now. 

“Do you want me to go?” Derek’s shoulders slump a bit, his voice gentle, and hell, Stiles is definitely not prepared for what _that_ does to him.

“I want you to stay,” he says quickly, bringing his hands to Derek’s face, lifting his head slightly, making him meet his eyes. He takes a deep breath, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones. His mind is racing with the torrent of things he wants to say, can barely contain. He steadies himself with a deep breath before he speaks. “This is nice, waking up next to you.” It falls woefully short and sounds terribly awkward, and even though it’s the safest thing he could have said, it still feels like a huge risk.

Derek smiles under his hands and moves closer, gently pressing his knee between Stiles thighs, bringing their hardening cocks together. “I like it too,” he says finally, leaning in to kiss him, mouth soft and warm, patient and languid. When he pulls away he sucks on his bottom lip, pulling a bit before nipping with playful growl and darting down to scent at his neck. Stiles’ is well on his way to being thoroughly marked up when Derek’s hands grow bolder, running softly down his spine and dipping between his cheeks, fingers soft against his still slightly stretched and wet hole.

Derek is slow, tentative, like he knows how tender Stiles is from the night before and is taking extra care with him, such a departure from all those other times he’s fucked him roughly, practically splitting him in half on his barely-lubed cock. He didn’t know Derek could be like this, didn’t know he would like it so much, the ache of Derek’s tenderness rivaled only by the blistering, teasing pleasure of his fingers slowly re-opening him, his body lighting up with every touch of Derek’s skin against his. Derek’s slowly rutting up against Stiles’ thigh too, spreading his precome into his skin. He arches up to drag him into another slow burning kiss, more insistent now, teasing at the barbell in his tongue. He's moaning loudly, the tiny bursts of pain as Derek stretches him only making him harder, more eager.

When Derek breaks the kiss he pulls his fingers from Stiles too, smiling at the sad little whine it draws from him. “You’re still sore from last night,” he whispers, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek, making Stiles tremble a bit. Derek rests his weight on his elbow and curves the palm of his hand neatly around his bony hip like it was made to be there. Stiles doesn’t know why he stopped, hitches up a bit to urge him on, but Derek just smiles again, and damn, Stiles could get used to seeing that every morning. Derek pushes him back down into the mattress, his own hips grinding slowly into his. “Patience, pup,” he says, hand moving to playfully spank Stiles’ ass, and Stiles _laughs_ , for christ’s sake.

Derek is extremely pleased with himself, practically purring in satisfaction at Stiles’ bubble of genuine laughter, a sound that is almost as foreign to him as it must be to Derek. His gentle hand returns to Stiles’ hip, eyes narrowing and focusing on where he’s clutching him. Still confused about what in the hell Derek’s doing, he looks down at his hand, catching his breath at what he sees. Derek’s hand is dark with sickly black veins, shimmering and squirming under his skin like snakes. The gnarled web fades and disappears as it reaches up his forearm, and when Stiles glances at Derek’s face, he sees that his eyes are glowing a deep blue, brow furrowed and mouth held tight.

“What – “ Stiles starts to ask, but he’s cut off by the sudden realization that the pain in his ass is completely gone, and so is the near-constant ache in his left shoulder that has a tendency to dislocate in more intense fights. The throb of a couple poorly-healed ribs ceases as well, and even the dull ache that lives deep in his chest that makes him hollow and hateful subsides. He’s relaxed, feeling lighter and more content than he ever has, body loosening and arching even closer towards Derek, towards the source of this new pleasure. 

Stiles bites back a shaking sigh when it dawns on him what Derek is doing, taking his pain, using his power to pull it into his own body. And he’s not just taking pain, but he’s giving something of himself too – the rush of happiness Stiles feels can’t be just his own, can it? 

Of all the ways Derek’s wolf has emerged when they’ve been together, this is the most devastating, scares him more than the claws and the fangs. Because this – this is Derek _caring._ He's giving Stiles so much more than he’s ever asked for, what he didn’t know how to ask for because he didn’t even know he needed this, wanted this, from anyone, let alone a werewolf, let alone Derek, the one person in all the world who might actually know just how irreparably broken Stiles really is.

Except he doesn’t feel so broken at the moment, the warm hum of contentment staying with him even when Derek pulls his hand away. The veins fade from his skin quickly, eyes returning to their only-slightly less magical golden green. Derek retrieves the lube from the nightstand and slicks his fingers up before returning them to Stiles’ hole, now opening easily, no trace of pain, just a growing, throbbing heat, body thirsting for Derek.

Derek’s face is close to his, close enough for him to see how his pupils grow even bigger as he watches Stiles lick his lips, panting. “Derek,” he mewls, sounding wrecked and needy, knowing without a doubt that he’s lost any pretense of trying to hide what he’s feeling, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have to anymore, not with the way Derek’s still looking at him, not with the way he took his pain, taking care to hold him together instead of tearing him apart. 

Derek’s eyes flash blue again as he dives down to kiss him, this time frantic and needy, low growl humming in the back of his throat, hands grasping at his ribs. Even though this urgency is more like the Derek he’s familiar with, it’s still new, passionate, driven by attraction rather than hateful lust, infinitely more powerful. His skin is buzzing and his cock is trembling, aching to discover all of the new things Derek can make him feel. “Derek,” he moans again, hips jerking down to take his fingers in further, “need you,” he whines, “please.”   

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek responds, sounding almost as wrecked as Stiles feels. He shifts a bit, centering his weight over him while spreading Stiles’ legs, grabbing his calves and lifting them to wrap around his hips. Stiles grunts in pleasure, cock twitching and heart racing at the thought of Derek fucking him like this, pressed against each other so close. Derek looks right into his eyes as he pulls his fingers from him with a slick pop, biting softly on his bottom lip like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something.

Derek presses the head of his dripping cock against him; Stiles wants to hold his gaze, but the hot rush of pleasure that floods through him makes his eyes roll back a bit, lashes fluttering, low groan spiking into a keening gasp. He slides in easily, bottoming out in a smooth, deep thrust that sends Derek collapsing onto him, body heavy against him as he shudders and groans into Stiles’ neck. He’s mumbling something, words lost against his skin, and Stiles suddenly wants to hear him, wants to know what he has to say when he’s fucking him up close like this, how his voice might be different. He tugs on Derek’s hair and rolls his hips up, urging him on. “Talk to me, Derek, I wanna hear you – “

“Mine,” Derek whispers, voice guttural and raw, body finally moving, a slow, sinuous roll that drives him even deeper into him and pushes his rock hard abs against Stiles’ cock. He buries his face back in his neck, as if that one word had flayed him as raw as it did Stiles, like he needs to recover from it. His hips keep rolling though, a maddening, teasing pace, fucking into him slowly and steadily. Derek kisses and licks a wet line up his neck, across his earlobe and cheek, finally finding his mouth, tongue darting in as achingly slow and tender as his deepening thrusts, rolling and pushing into him, body covering his, keeping him whole. 

When Derek breaks the kiss he looks into Stiles’ eyes for a moment, hands cradling his face before he finally speaks again, the soft timbre of his voice nestling its way into Stiles’ heart for good. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, like he can’t believe he’s real or something. “God, you feel so good. You’re always so good for me.” Derek’s breath is coming hotter and faster against his mouth, and he reaches down and wraps his hand around Stiles’ cock, rolling to the side a bit to get a better angle, jacking him quickly in time with his faster, jerkier thrusts as Stiles hooks his ankles together around Derek’s back, pulling him closer, head thrown back and neck bared as he rolls up to meet his hips.

He thinks he’s moaning Derek’s name, but he’s not sure, so incredibly lost as he is in the unspeakable pleasure coursing through him. His hips are twitching rapidly now, fucking up into Derek’s fist and clenching tight around his cock. “Come for me,” Derek orders softly. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come, Stiles, come for me.”

Stiles obeys, the crack in Derek’s voice pushing him over the edge, vision whiting out for a bit as his orgasm rocks through him in long, slow pulses that leave him sweaty and gasping, body sparking in buzzing pleasure, ribbons of come across his chest.

Derek doesn’t let up his tortuously perfect fucking, pounds into him even harder. He gathers up Stiles’ come from his chest, spreading some of it into his skin before lifting his hand to lick at his fingers. Stiles watches, smiling, as his eyes flutter in bliss as he tastes it.

Derek pulls out completely, making Stiles yelp in surprise. He grasps his own cock with his come-covered hand, gorgeous mouth open wide in a loud, utterly pornographic moan as he comes in powerful bursts across Stiles’ stretched, wet hole. He’s a goddamned vision, face so open and blissful as he pours himself over his ass. Stiles isn’t sure if it’s a werewolf thing or a Derek thing, but he’s always blown impressively huge loads, and this is no exception. Stiles is soaking, drenched in his thick, heavy come, his cock starting to stiffen again with how much he fucking loves it, loves being marked up by Derek like this.

Derek is still hard and he pushes back into him, even slicker now. “Oh fuck, Derek, yes.” His words get lost in Derek’s hair, mouth pressed against the top of his head as Derek lays heavily on him, fucking his come into him and biting at his collarbone.

Stiles is lost in the frenzy of it, cock getting harder and harder. Derek rears up without warning, wolfish glint in his eyes as he pulls out and rises to his knees, grasping Stiles’ legs and pushing them back so he’s nearly folded in half on the bed, exposed and leaking. Derek’s tongue is a hot, wet revelation, lapping at him, sloppy with come and spit. He licks him greedily, humming in pleasure like his own come dripping from Stiles' well-fucked hole is the best thing he’s ever tasted.

It’s definitely one of the best things Stiles has ever felt, so fucking filthy and sweetly intimate all at once. He’s hard again, still sensitive but he has to touch himself, is dying for it as Derek’s tongue works him over. Soon Derek’s bring his legs back down around his chest and licks up his cock, sucking on the head and tonguing into his slit before swallowing him down. 

Stiles comes again, embarrassingly fast, Derek's throat fluttering as the head of his cock presses hard against it, the overwhelming flush of sizzling heat from tearing through him, lighting him up from the inside out, spilling down Derek’s throat with tortured gasps.

Derek swallows neatly with a smile, pulling off and placing a soft kiss on the head of his cock before moving up the bed and lying on his side, pulling Stiles in close, pressing his chest against Stiles’ back, arm hooking around his waist to hold him tight. "Mine," he says again, nibbling on the back of his neck.

**~*~**

When Stiles wakes up a few hours later, Derek is still clutching him, big wolfy body even heavier and more dense in sleep. He barely stirs when Stiles slides out from under him and makes his way to the bathroom.

He lets the hot water of the shower cascade over him for a long time before he begins to actually wash up, letting the enormity and emotional roller coaster of the last twelve hours sink in. There’s so many reasons why he should be cautious, why he should be freaking the fuck out in fact, but they all seem pitiful and irrelevant when he thinks of Derek’s big eyes on him as he comes, the soul-glowing contentment he felt when Derek took his pain and gave him so much more. 

By the time he gets out of the shower, he’s given up trying to talk himself out of his feelings for Derek, a battle he never stood a chance of winning from the first moment he laid eyes on him, if he’s being honest. He has no idea how where they’re supposed to go from here, but for the first time in his life scary unknowns fill him with anticipation and hope instead of dread and anger.

Derek’s not in bed when he emerges from the bathroom, shirtless but wearing low-slung sweats, drying his hair with a towel. Derek’s shirt and boots are still in a pile on the floor, so Stiles knows he hasn’t gone far.

He makes his way down the stairs, body loose-limbed and soft. There’s coffee bubbling in the coffeemaker on the kitchen counter, empty beer bottles pushed aside. The front door is open and the main room is empty, so he heads outside into the chilly morning, searching for Derek. The sky is overcast, making everything look soft and cozy, or maybe it's just his lingering sex-coma or whatever magic Derek worked on him with his pain-leeching power and soft lips, his shy smile and starry eyes.

Derek's just around the corner from the front door, leaning against the side of the barn. He's shirtless too, wearing only his dark jeans, unbuttoned and barely zipped, low on his hips. He's casually sipping coffee from a chipped, pale pink coffee mug, part of the pastel set that came with the place. Twisting around his ankles is the part-feral cat that’s been hanging around for weeks now that Stiles’ hasn’t been able to get close to, even though he’s been leaving out food that he knows it's eating.

The cat – big and sleek, all black with yellow-green eyes, is purring so loudly Stiles can hear it from where he’s standing in open-mouthed shock, because _come on_. There’s only so much a man can handle. 

Derek bends over and sets his coffee in the grass, using both hands to scoop up the cat, cradling it against his bare chest. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Stiles laughs, stepping forward and picking up the mug, drinking Derek’s coffee mostly just to find out how he likes it. Black, no sugar, of course.

“What,” Derek asks, mock-indignant, like the sight of him shirtless and snuggling a cat, hair still soft and mussed from where Stiles had been pulling at it, is something that shouldn’t stun him with its bizarreness and utter adorableness.

“I’ve been feeding that cat for almost two months and it won’t come near me. You’re a wolf and it’s purring and baring its damn neck for you, probably because you fluttered your eyelashes at it or something.” He reaches out and offers his hand to the cat, who dismissively twitches his admittedly cute nose before nuzzling back into Derek’s admittedly cute chest. 

Derek steps closer, shifting the cat to one arm so he can take his coffee back from Stiles, moving to go back inside, bringing the cat with him. He leans in close and places a playful peck on Stiles’ cheek, smiling as he whispers into his stubble. “Sounds like somebody else I know."

Stiles grabs his jaw and pulls him into a kiss, pressing hard against lips that still taste like them. "Mine," he whispers back.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://deleted-scenes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
